


I Want To Be a Part of It

by WhisperInTheDarkness



Series: Keep me warm [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Cook Derek Hale, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-01-02
Updated: 2019-01-02
Packaged: 2019-10-02 22:12:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17272091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhisperInTheDarkness/pseuds/WhisperInTheDarkness
Summary: If Derek could tell their story, he'd tell it a bit differently.





	I Want To Be a Part of It

**Author's Note:**

> This is a bit of a rehash of 'New York, New York' as well as a continuation.
> 
> It's not the end of the world if you don't read part 1 but it would certainly provide some context to a lot of what is going to happen.

Derek Hale had always been wanted.

The day of his birth had been a cold one, but no one seemed to mind as they huddled up outside the delivery room, waiting for his first hesitant cries of life. When he arrived, he had all his fingers and toes accounted for and a smile so warm it seemed oddly practiced.

“Derek” His mother whispered, her eyes flashing red.

And that, of course, had been that.

 

“ I have a new girlfriend.” Derek said at twenty three, eyes roaming around the small café he and his sister frequented when she came down to visit. There weren’t many humans around, he was happy to find. Humans that weren’t pack smelt wrong.

“Uh-huh” Laura muttered, disinterestedly. The ice in her tea clinked against the glass as she watched him, ignoring the middle-aged man who had accidentally bumped their table on his way out.

“I’m being serious.” He insisted, trying to keep his anger a bay. 

Laura knew how to wind him up better than anyone else he knew. She’d been doing the feigned disinterest thing since they were children. She’d always known how much he hated being ignored.

She also had the rather irritating habit of always thinking that she was right. He tried not to feed into her narcissism anymore than he needed to. He had learned long ago to keep his heartbeat as steady as possible around her. He didn’t know who out of the two of them was more disappointed that it never worked.

“Look Derek you don’t have to prove anything to me OK? “

“I’m not-“

He shut his eyes, willing away the golden glow that threatened to spill over

“Look would you just meet her? She wants to meet you. The Shaw’s are a good pack-“

“For fuck sake, Derek!”

The background drone of voices in the small shop, that had been a constant through their meeting, stopped abruptly.

“ What does her pack have to do with it? Huh? You keep mentioning it like it means anything.”

“Of course it does.” Derek replied, stunned. 

He had no idea where this was even coming from, she had seemed calm enough when they arrived. 

“I’m not watching you do this to yourself again.”

The other patrons returned to their conversations, their eyes avoiding the table Derek and Laura were seated at.

“Laura-“

“No. You can spend the rest of your life chasing after her ghost but don’t expect me to make you feel better about it”

She then turned away, collected her things and walking back out into the street. 

Derek sat where he was long after the waitstaff started throwing him looks. He left eventually, feeling like he’d lost something, chest hollow, not knowing what.

 

It wasn’t that Derek hated relationship’s per say, he just hated all the fuss that usually came with them. He was thirty-two now. He had a job that he loved and a steady stream of women to satiate whatever urges he had.

He just hated that so many of them wanted something more from him. He hated how they laced their fingers into his. He hated when they lied and called him their boyfriend, bathed in a cloud of sickly perfume.

He gently stirred the white sauce on the stove in front of him, the corner of his mouth gently turning up when the scent shifted into something more pleasant.

It was steadily drowning out the smell of the pizza that had been delivered to his neighbor’s apartment half an hour ago. Whoever lived there wouldn’t live long at this rate, there was only so much processed trash a person could eat without keeling over, Derek thought disdainfully. He couldn’t understand why people just couldn’t take care of themselves, it wasn’t exactly difficult.

He finished of sauce and brought the wooden spoon up to his mouth. It was perfect of course. Everything Derek made was.

His phone started ringing somewhere in the depths of his apartment but he ignored it. He had special ringtones set for his mother and the rest of his family. Either it was some girl trying to contact him for whatever reason, or it was Peter who Derek had taken off the family ringtone years ago. Either way he wasn’t going to answer.

When he was done with tasting the dish he set it aside, making note of whether it would be acceptable to the restaurant menu. The menu was already a bit too seafood heavy at the moment, perhaps adding drunken mussels would be overkill?

He poured some of the wine left over from the recipe and settled down on his couch. It felt like nothing was getting done at this point, every contractor he met with, every sous-chef he interviewed , it all just felt… wrong. Whatever dreams he had of setting up his restaurant in the next 6 months seemed incredibly unlikely. He had to get on the phone with some competent people as soon as possible otherwise all the money and effort he’d poured into this project would go to waste.

He thought of pale walls, and home and sweet smells drifting out of a busy kitchen. Somewhere along the line, the thoughts melted into dreams. The kitchen that resided there, strangely had no people, only the faint imprint of a presence long since gone.

When his phone started ringing for the second time, Derek wasn’t awake to hear it.

 

He was startled awake by a knock on his door. He felt sleep-drunk as he forced himself off his couch. He shuffled towards the direction of the knocking, ready to curse at whoever was at the other side of the door. He didn't know how late it was but he'd bet his savings that it was far too late for this.

A teenager was holding a pizza box when he opened the door. He didn't seem happy to be there. Derek almost wanted to laugh.

“Delivery for apartment 705?” He said in a tone of voice only people in the service industry seemed to be blessed with.

“ I didn’t order a pizza.”

The man didn’t even flinch at his tone, just kept watching him through narrowed eyes. He must have lost his touch if he couldn’t even manage to intimidate delivery boys anymore.

“ I don’t know what to tell you man. It says 705 here and it’s already been paid for.”

He shoved the box into Derek’s hands.

"Have a nice day." He said, honestly sounding like he meant the opposite and walked back in the direction of the stairs.

“Asshole” Derek muttered and stared down at the offending pizza. 

He hadn’t ordered a pizza, he was sure of it. He wasn’t that sleep loopy. He was debating what to do with it when he remembered his cholesterol ridden neighbor and cheesy smells that emanated from his apartment.

He rolled his eyes, and trudged over the persons door.

“Hey! Hey! They delivered your pizza to the wrong apartment! I’m from 705 just next to you?”

He thought he heard shuffling from the other side but no one came to answer the door.

He tried knocking a few more times, fists heavily landing on the wooden door. Who ordered pizza and wasn’t even home to collect it?

Sighing, he let the box slip out of his hands. A bit of the pie landed on the floor, flooding the air with tomato and grease.

He had things to do, he didn’t have time for this shit.


End file.
